


Devil Never Cry

by BurnItAllDownDahling



Series: A Family Repair [4]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: M/M, Melancholy, Reconciliation, Spardacest (Devil May Cry), Trauma, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 09:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21268964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurnItAllDownDahling/pseuds/BurnItAllDownDahling
Summary: Vergil's back. Healing is hard.





	Devil Never Cry

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Get Back Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232376) by [BurnItAllDownDahling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurnItAllDownDahling/pseuds/BurnItAllDownDahling). 

It's been three days since he got his brother back.

Three days of watching his brother and his nephew try to reconnect, and bounce off each other painfully. Part of the problem is Vergil, who doesn't know how to be normal. Part of it is Nero, who's so eager to have back the father that he idolized as a child that he keeps hurting himself with his own near-adult realizations. A four-year-old thinks his father's perpetual silence is cool; a fifteen-year-old sees that it's emotional constipation, even if he doesn't know what to call it. A four-year-old simply assumes his parent's unconditional love. A fifteen-year-old knows enough to doubt.

Dante's just tried to stay out of their way. It's improving, as they get used to each other. Vergil's making an effort to talk more, even if that means he just does three sentences a day instead of two. Nero's beginning to be comfortable with silence. Dante figures that eventually all three of them will just snap and fight it out; that's usually how things end up. And what will happen then? The last time he and Vergil fought, things literally went to hell. Nero's presence might help them keep it in check. Also, Dante's stronger than Vergil now, probably. Still.

Still. There is a stillness between him and his brother, now, that he's never felt before. 

He doesn't know what to make of it. He thinks it bothers him. He's not sure why. So he sits up on the rooftop, looking at the moon and listening to the wind and wishing there was a shrink somewhere on the planet who could fix the fucked-up part of him that wants to run away from the whole mess, even after he just spent ten years trying to get his brother back.

He sighs, and leans his head back against a leg of the water tower on the roof -- and pauses, sensing that he's no longer alone.

Vergil strides past him to the edge of the roof, where he stops and gazes out over the city's rooftops. Dante drinks in the sight, remembering the Temen-ni-gru -- but also the time before it. He'd seen Vergil in that same spot many times, during the year of their... liaison. (He's not sure he can call it a relationship. They're brothers. They've been in a relationship since they were conceived.) The picture's wrong this time, because Vergil doesn't have Yamato. Nero managed to re-forge the sword as he came into his demonic power, and for the time being, the thing's embedded in his Devil Bringer. Vergil hasn't decided to reclaim it... yet. But he looks naked without it.

(Naked.)

"You look tired," Vergil says into the wind. "You should come down to bed."

Aaaaand, that's a thing too. Vergil's been sleeping in Dante's bed, so Dante's been taking the couch downstairs. They were lovers, once, and so easily could be again. It's... been a long time. Demons thrive on blood, sex, and violence, and he's gone without sex for so long that he isn't sure he remembers how. He wants...

(Fucking. It wasn't a relationship, it was fucking. A lot of it hurt, because Vergil was trying to hurt him. It was his own dumbass fault for wanting more.)

He doesn't know what he wants. So. The couch it'll be, 'til he figures that out.

"I'll turn in soon," Dante says, evading the topic of whether he'll do so by joining Vergil in his own bed. He fixes his gaze on the moon, so that the sight of Vergil, stripped of his sword, embodying his own loneliness, will not bother him anymore. "Kid's out?"

"Yes." A soft sigh. "Thank you."

For keeping Nero alive, and not abandoning him in a forest like Vergil suggested? Dante's not sure his parenting has been much more than that, but he'll at least take credit for the kid not ending up dead in a ditch. "He's my nephew, dumbass."

Vergil's head turns, just a little. "For making him more like you, than me."

What.

Vergil turns. The moon silhouettes him, now. "There's such fire in him. And like you, he understands innately what I've only learned after years of literal hell: that strength protects -- but also that strength is a choice. Having something to fight for makes one stronger." He lifts a hand, stares at it, flexes it slowly. Maybe he's remembering it sheathed in demonic armor, wrapped around a fell sword that was both weapon and part of his prison. Maybe he's missing the Yamato. Maybe he's just looking at his hand, damn weirdo.

Dante shakes his head. "Nero is Nero. He's a good kid, and a force of nature in his own right. And most of that, he got from you."

Vergil doesn't reply for a moment, and then he lowers his hand and folds them behind him again. "Back then, you told me," he says slowly, "that I was preparing him to endure my own childhood. You were right. That was all I knew to do. You gave him your childhood, instead. A protector who was there when it mattered. Enough safety that he grew up... sane."

Dante rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly. "You're not crazy, Verg. I always understood _why_ you did the things you did, even if I didn't agree with them. Me, though... I'm probably not as sane as I look." And half the time, he doesn't understand his own actions. He just does what seems right, at any given moment. Winging it for life.

"You're sane enough that I hated you for it, or told myself that I did. The whole time, though, I really just hated myself."

Yiiikes. Dante levels a look at his back. "Who are you, and what did you do with Vergil, and _how_ did you do it, because the brother I know is a mean son of a bitch."

"Thirteen years of torture lends a surprising amount of clarity to one's past actions, Dante."

Dante winces. He still makes precision strikes, does Vergil, just not with a sword. But before Dante can recover from this, Vergil comes over and crouches before him. Dante's belly tightens in inadvertent unease. A part of him has been dreading this. He has no doubt that Vergil will want him again. That's his brother's nature; he lays claim, and does not share his toys. But it's been almost half a lifetime, and Dante... doesn't want to be just a toy, anymore.

But Vergil just gazes at him, and there is something still and sad in his face. "You aren't mine, anymore," he says. "My mark upon you has faded away."

It has? "Huh. Didn't know that could happen."

"Time and various stressors can break the connection." Vergil shifts to sit beside him, knees drawn up, gazing at the night sky. "I _tried_ to break it, because I feared Mundus could somehow reach you through it, though eventually it became clear he could not. And because I could still sense you through it. Given that, it seemed best to let it erode."

"Sense me?"

"Your physical sensations and stronger emotions. Your thoughts, albeit in a very basic way. I knew where you were at most times." Vergil glances at him. "You've never laid claim to anyone, then."

Shit, no, and he doesn't ever want to, if that's what it means. Yet the knowledge that Vergil has had that kind of window into him for years is less creepy than troubling. To feel Dante's comfort while he endured agonies... "No," Dante says, absently. "Not really my thing. Thanks for keeping Mundus off me, though."

"He was not worthy of you." Amazing that Vergil can make such an arrogant statement sound... tender. "Of course, I once thought that _I_ was."

This is just a night for verbal bomb-dropping, apparently. Dante can't think of anything to say to this. _You are_ makes it sound like he thinks Vergil was right to be a dick to him. _I liked it_ is beside the point, and anyway, he's half demon; too much of him is just wired to enjoy violence. Good dick alone is no basis for a healthy relationship. And _I love you and I'll take anything you're willing to give me_ is just fucked up. Especially considering it's not 100% true anymore.

With a heavy sigh, Dante lies back on the soft rubber pavers of the rooftop, tucking his hands behind his head. Damn Vergil. This is more than Dante ever likes to think about anything. He wishes Vergil would just attack him again. Fighting is easier.

Vergil just sits there beside him, gazing at the sky, and Dante slowly relaxes, after belatedly realizing he's tensed up. It's nice, just sitting with him like this. Have they ever done this before? No, not even with Father. As children, they were always wrestling or arguing or otherwise in conflict. In a sudden, bitter epiphany, Dante realizes he doesn't know how _not_ to be in conflict with Vergil. More work for that imaginary demon shrink.

"I vowed that I would love you," Vergil says suddenly, "if I ever became free again."

Aaaaaand the verbal bombing campaign ends in a nuke.

Vergil turns while Dante is still staring at him, mouth open, mind reeling. He actually smiles. It's slight and sad and so beautiful that Dante closes his mouth. "Your face."

"You _hate_ me," he blurts.

Vergil's smile fades. "No, little brother. I was a fool blaming you for my own weakness, and terrified of what I truly felt." He takes a deep breath and sighs out the last. "A fool and a coward."

And as Dante lies there and thinks, _I wish I had a fancy cellphone, like Nero keeps nagging me to get, so I could record this_, Vergil lies down on his side, facing him. When Dante turns his head to keep staring, Vergil lifts a hand to cup his jaw.

"Your face," he says again, softly, and with admiration.

Dante thinks, in shock, _He actually thinks I'm beautiful?_

Vergil pulls. It's a request, not a demand. Dante's still dazed enough to roll with it. Vergil's hand is so warm. He touches his forehead to Dante's, rests there a moment. It's strange to have him so close without pain.

"I will not be a coward again, Brother," Vergil murmurs. His voice is soft, his face as cold-focused as Dante has ever seen it, in battle.

It's too much. Dante can't take it. He reaches up to take Vergil's hand, in a surge of impulse. "Verg..." But then he stops, at a loss for what to say. Words aren't his thing at all.

Vergil kisses him, though. It's soft, and unbelievably gentle -- and half a second later, everything inside Dante that longs to be held, needs to be touched, every hunger he's left to starve for years while he focused on raising his nephew and rescuing his brother, comes roaring back to life. He wants sex. God, he _needs_ it, so bad, right here and now. Words are hard and forgiveness is harder, but fucking? That, he can do.

Vergil sits up on one elbow, shadowing him, still pulling with that hand, radiating desire. "May I love you, Dante?"

Dante doesn't know if it's a euphemism for sex or a really literal repetition of Vergil's vow. He decides it's a euphemism, because he needs dick. Yesterday. "Yeah..." He curls into that pull, wraps arms around Vergil, and pulls him down into his mouth. The kiss is still gentle, but there is an edge of fierceness to it now, and he likes that. He likes the way Vergil's hands have begun to roam his body, not with the old grip-and-bruise possessiveness, but savoring, seeking to give pleasure. It doesn't matter. He'll enjoy it anyway -- but when Vergil gets his shirt off and pauses, sliding a hand over him and just looking at him as if he's never seen Dante before, it's amazing. Like a caress of eyes. He knows, suddenly and intuitively, that Vergil finds him just as lovely in his demon-form, too. That it's not really the flesh he's attracted to.

Well, it's the flesh that Dante wants right now. He sits up and yanks open Vergil's vest and bites him on the throat. He's expecting a reaction -- Vergil's always been into the demon shit, but it matters who bites and who bares in these things, and Vergil definitely doesn't like to be the one bitten. And yet he groans softly and cups Dante's hair in this moment, holding him close so Dante can bite again, keeping his chin up to facilitate this. And it's -- God, Dante's so hot all of a sudden -- something roils and quickens in him, edging toward savagery. He fights it back and pulls Vergil down on top of him, switching to his brother's mouth instead and demanding his strength. Vergil growls and obeys, catching Dante's arms and pinning them with one hand, efficiently opening his pants and sliding a hand in and caressing everything he finds in there. It feels so good that Dante writhes beneath him, babbling and probably moaning loud enough that the neighbors can hear. Fuck it. They're used to weird sounds coming out of Devil May Cry in the dead of the night.

"Verg," he says, urgently. He half sits up to deliver this message. "I need you to fuck me. Okay? Just -- just fuck me, God, I really -- okay?"

Vergil slides a hand over the tight muscles of Dante's abdomen, then shifts down for a long, looping lick of his cock. It feels so good that Dante bucks up, making a feverish sound. When Vergil lets go his hands, he grabs Vergil's head, and holds him there so he can get a little more of that amazing sensation of having everything good and wonderful in his life channeled into one place for a while.

But after a few millennia of bliss, Vergil slides off him, wipes his mouth, and lifts his head. He's amused, and there's at least a little of the old smug superiority in his gaze as he shifts between Dante's legs and ruts against him, slowly and cruelly and deliciously. "Discipline, Dante. I thought you wanted to be fucked. Or have you changed your mind?"

Bastard. Dante loves him so much. And Dante wants to feel him again, on top, underneath, all over, because it's been so many long, cold years. He could have taken other lovers. Probably should have; Nero's complained occasionally that he needed to get laid so it would fix his temper. Vergil never even asked if he wanted it, back then. Can't cheat if you never committed.

But Vergil has asked now. And Dante wants him now. Wants no one else, and nothing more or less, ever.

So he reaches up and hauls his brother down, and Vergil comes gladly, gratefully, greedily. It's nothing but a tangle from there on, mouths breathing sighs and inhaling moans, hands clutching and groping and arms locking tight, legs getting in the way, hands reassuring bereft, lonely cocks. Vergil comes into Dante and then stops, shuddering a little, his eyes fluttering shut as if he is momentarily overwhelmed. Dante's demon rises and growls at him, even though it's not that kind of party, before Dante can stuff the beast back in its box. With a soft breath of amusement, Vergil props himself on an elbow so he can drink in Dante's face as he fucks. "Sorry," he says, between rough breaths. The apology alone stuns Dante. "It's just... been a while."

Ten awful years. Dante sob-snarls and cups his head to hold him close and puts his other hand on Vergil's lower back to spur him on. He eventually comes like that, arms and legs wrapped around his brother, cock spasming in Vergil's hand, teeth set into Vergil's shoulder because it's never completely gentle between them. And when he is done rocking and seeing stars and whimpering "V-- V--" before his voice dissolves into unintelligible cries, he hears Vergil make a soft broken sound and feels him thrust hard a few times and then he groans, "My Dante. Oh God, oh. _My Dante_."

In all the ways that matter, it's fixed between them, at last.

Afterward is almost as nice as the fucking was. They lie on their scattered clothing, caressing each other slowly, learning each other anew, learning afresh what it is to touch with welcome and be touched without fear. They were young men when they began this, but no more. Dante's hairier now. Vergil's still smooth. Vergil's swept-back mane is wilder. He touches it selfconsciously and sighs, "I suppose I must use gel, now." And Dante laughs until he wants to cry.

He doesn't, though. He's got his Vergil back. No reason to cry anymore, ever again.

They walk downstairs, carrying their clothes, and surprise Nero in the kitchen. The boy is standing in front of the open fridge and drinking directly out of the jug of milk, which Dante has told him nine hundred times not to do. Thus Nero sprays that whole mouthful over the kitchen at the sight of them naked. "Great job!" Dante says, cheerfully thumbs-upping him. "Now you get to clean that up."

"What the hell?!" Nero blurts.

"Hey, you wanted me to get laid."

"I didn't want to see your _junk_, though! Ew! Get a room, both of you!" Then he subsides into grumbling as he looks for a paper towel to clean up the mess. But Dante knows him. The kid actually sounds pleased.

And in the room, again, Vergil turns and draws him close.

"I _will_ be worthy of you, Brother," he says. "From now on."

"Yeah, yeah," Dante says. But. He likes it. "Just kiss me and get in the bed. We've got more make-up sex to do."

Vergil actually smiles, inclines his head with regal grace, and obeys.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hell. I guess three stories makes a new series. What to call this one...? Not sure if I'll keep going with it, but the idea of stories about the twins coparenting a bitchy teenager *is* kind of appealing. Anyway, little morning porn for ya. Hope you liked!


End file.
